


The Fatherhood Chronicles - The Secret Power of Hot Chocolate

by Aragarna



Series: The Fatherhood Chronicles [14]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Comfort, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3757339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aragarna/pseuds/Aragarna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even after a bad day at work, you can't take a day off from being a father. But that might not be a bad thing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fatherhood Chronicles - The Secret Power of Hot Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> A little jump in time for this one, set 4 years in the future. Doesn't mean I won't go back to earlier days in future fics. This is for [](http://dennih23.livejournal.com/profile)[dennih23](http://dennih23.livejournal.com/) who prompted me the original idea.

This was the one thing about his job that Peter would never get used to. He knew the risks were always there, for any agent, and that, nonetheless, they were accepting it. But when it happened – and it happened, even in the White Collar division – it was always terribly painful. And it would never get easier with time. On the contrary, as years passed, the number of portraits hung on that wall kept growing, making Peter’s heart a little heavier each time he had to add a new one.

Wilson wasn’t part of the division. He was Organized Crimes, but over the years, Peter had had a few occasions to work with him. He was always very polite and friendly. He had even invited the Burkes a couple times to his annual barbecue, and had offered a gift for Neal’s birth.

Days like this, all Peter wanted to do was to curl under the covers, comforted by Elizabeth’s contact, as she’d hold him tenderly. Except Elizabeth was in San Francisco and wouldn’t come back until the next day. And if Elizabeth was always kind enough to leave him be, Peter doubted that Neal, a wonderful and incredibly lively four-years-old boy, would be as understanding.

As to prove him right, Peter had barely pushed the door of their Brooklyn home that Neal was running down the stairs to greet him.

“Dad! You’re home! Come see the big Lego dinosaur we built with Paul!”

Paul was the Edwards’ teenager son living next door, and Neal’s occasional babysitter when neither Peter nor Elizabeth could pick him up at daycare.

Peter sighed tiredly. “Neal, buddy. No running down the stairs.”

He didn’t even have the heart to sound authoritative, and it was obvious his words didn’t made the slightest impression on Neal. Peter grabbed him under the arms and lifted him up to his face, to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Hello, Pumpkin,” he said tenderly, putting Neal back on the floor.

“Hi, Peter,” Paul said cheerfully as he came down the stairs at a more reasonable pace than Neal.

“Hi, Paul, thank you,” Peter answered, handing him some money for babysitting Neal. “Everything went fine?”

Paul nodded. “Everything went fine. Neal was a good boy.”

Peter ruffled Neal’s hair. “Good.”

“Bye, Peter. Bye, Neal!”

“Bye Paul,” Neal said with his little voice, waving at him.

Peter closed the door behind Paul and dragged himself to the living room where he crashed on the sofa. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and put his feet on the coffee table.

“Dad! Come see my dinosaur.”

“I’m not in the mood, Neal,” Peter grumbled without even opening his eyes.

But Neal wouldn’t give up so easily. He grabbed his dad’s hand and pulled as best as he could to force Peter to get up.

“Come on, Dad. I want to show you my dinosaur.”

“Neal, give me a break,” Peter scolded. “Go to your room, I’ll come to see your dinosaur later.”

He cracked an eye open. Neal’s disappointed face broke his heart. But really, he wasn’t in any shape to marvel over anything. Not even a Lego dinosaur.

Peter sighed, and sat up. He cupped Neal’s chin with his fingers.

“Look, Pumpkin. Dad had a very bad day and he’s very tired. I need to be alone and rest for a moment.”

Neal looked at him very intensely with his big brown eyes. “Like, you’re sad?” he asked.

Peter nodded. “Yes, I’m sad.”

“Why?”

“Something bad happened to one of the agents at work.”

Neal was swaying from one foot to another, thinking. “Do you want me to read you a story?” he asked.

This made Peter smile. “No, I’m fine. Just go to your room. I’ll join you in a few minutes, I promise. Okay?”

“ ‘Kay,” Neal answered in a small voice.

He continued swinging on his feet, then looked down and finally turned around. Peter heaved a sigh and leaned back on the sofa, rubbing his eyes.

He hadn’t closed his eyes for two minutes that he heard a loud noise and high-pitched scream coming from the kitchen.

“Neal!”

Peter jumped to his feet and in two strides was in the kitchen. Neal was standing in a pool of milk, spilling on the floor from a splintered bottle lying on the floor.

The door of the fridge was opened.

“Neal! What did you do?” Peter scolded, hands on his hips, and really unhappy.

The young boy burst into tears. “I just wanted to make you a hot chocolate,” he managed to say between two sobs. “Mom always makes me a hot chocolate when I’m sad. But – but the fridge door was too high and – and -…”

Peter’s heart instantly melt.

“Aww, Neal…”

He closed the fridge door, grabbed his son and sat him on the kitchen island. He took off his sleepers soaked in milk and wiped his son’s feet and ankles with a towel. He then quickly cleaned the floor and threw away the empty bottle.

Neal was still silently sobbing, wiping his tears with his sleeves. Peter took him in his arms and gently rubbed his back. Neal put his arms around Peter’s neck and rested his head on his shoulder.

“Shh… It’s okay, kiddo. It’s nothing. It was very nice of you to try and make me a chocolate. But you know you’re still too small to use the kitchen on your own. You need to ask Mom or Dad.”

The head still buried in his father’s shoulder, Neal nodded. Peter pulled away and put his hands on Neal’s shoulders.

“You know what? I think we both deserve a hot chocolate.”

Neal smiled and his eyes sparkled.

“You like the idea?” Peter asked.

Neal nodded with fervor.

Peter sat Neal on a chair, took two mugs from the cupboard and, opening a new bottle, he poured milk into each of them. He then reached for the powder chocolate on the shelf.

“How many spoons?”

“Two spoons.”

Peter served two spoons of chocolate in each mug before heating them in the microwave. Finally, he put the two smoking beverages on the table and slid one to Neal.

They looked at each other.

“Whipped cream?” Peter asked.

Neal nodded approvingly. A large smile lightened his face as Peter added a knob of whipped cream on top of his hot chocolate.

Peter took a seat opposite to Neal, and they drank their beverages in unison. He had to admit, a hot chocolate was nicely comforting. Or maybe it was sharing it with his son.

Neal had whipped cream all over his lips and was trying to lick it away, rather unsuccessfully. Peter reached out and brushed away the cream from Neal’s nose.

“So, what kind of dinosaur is it?”

 

 

To be Continued...


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